


A Gentle Ripping

by karanguni



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 02:18:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1923033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karanguni/pseuds/karanguni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'I only hope,' he says wryly, 'that when the time comes he rips <em>my</em> heart out a little more gently.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Gentle Ripping

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neverminetohold](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverminetohold/gifts).



The first time Fenris makes a disparaging comment about mages, Bethany stiffens by Hawke's side and speaks her mind. Hawke says nothing.  
  
The second time Fenris makes a disparaging comment about mages, Bethany ignores him, knowing patterns when she sees them. Hawke says nothing.  
  
The third time Fenris makes a disparaging comment about mages, Bethany corners Hawke in a corner of their uncle's house when everyone else is out because — as he had done twice before — he says nothing.  
  
'You _like_ him,' Bethany breathes, excited and disbelieving all in the same breath. 'Our little elven mage-hater?'  
  
'He speaks what he thinks, and what he thinks is fundamentally coloured by his experiences as a long-abused Tevinter slave. I can't blame him any more than I can agree with him. Can you?'  
  
'I take it back,' Bethany says, sounding now a little disturbed. 'You want to _save_ him, which is worse.'  
  
Hawke shrugs. Bethany, not fooled, gives him a knowing smile. 'I can't save anyone from themselves. But,' Hawke clears his throat, 'we must learn to walk together, people like him and I. If two outcasts cannot learn to compromise, can anybody?'  
  
-  
  
'He's an obnoxious and moody elf squatting in a mansion filled with nothing besides ghosts and some _very_ good wine vintages.' Varric, whose eyes are too keen and whose tongue is too sharp, laughs. 'No wonder you like him, Hawke: another wounded soul for you to... kiss and make better?'  
  
'Be silent, dwarf,' Hawke says, but he smiles and buys Varric another round.  
  
'Young love,' Varric miming retching. 'Disgusting stuff.'  
  
-  
  
'Is Fenris a registered citizen of Kirkwall?' Aveline asks.  
  
Hawke gives her a _l_ _ook_.  
  
-  
  
Hawke keeps their motley crew together with a combination of good humour, creative diplomacy, and an excellent track record of getting things done. Occasionally, Anders loses his temper at Fenris and attempts blue murder, but it's nothing a few well-timed words can't fix. If it's an added advantage that Fenris keeps his vitriol aimed firmly at the other mage instead of at Bethany or, conveniently, at Hawke himself, Hawke doesn't comment upon it to anyone.  
  
-  
  
Sometimes, around campfires on the Wounded Coast or between pints of what the Hanged Man calls beer, Hawke and Fenris might even be said to get along.  
  
-  
  
Yet, every once in a while, as Fenris stands bleeding in the aftermath of some small battle in his larger war against the world, Hawke will press in and say, cruelly, 'Did you know? Only slavers think in absolutes,' before letting his magic flow down between them.  
  
Yet, Fenris has never rejected an offer to be healed.  
  
-  
  
Then Bethany dies. Not from possession, or some demon's work, but a sad death: an everyday death, a pedestrian death. The sickness takes her, and along with it what little remaining patience Hawke has for Fenris' idea of good sympathy:  
  
'I am sorry; I would have wished this end on no one. But,' the elf tries to tell Hawke, 'perhaps it is better things ended this way. She is no longer in danger, either from the world or from herself.' His voice is gentle; insult upon injury.  
  
'Maker _yes_ , I should be so grateful,' Hawke snaps, just barely finding it in himself to prevent Varric from assaulting Fenris where he stands. 'I forgot that us mages are all born to be evil, the same way some are born to be slaves.'  
  
'Slaves are the creation of men,' Fenris growls, but he cannot meet Hawke's eye.  
  
'So are the ideas in that head of yours,' Hawke says wearily, the star-burst flare of anger dying down to exhausted grief. He puts his hand over Bethany's eyes and presses their foreheads together. For a long moment, the deep halls are silent. Then Hawke looks up again at his companions and says, 'No more. Will you help me with her body?'  
   
  
-  
  
When Fenris breaks a promise and rips Hadriana's heart out, Aveline's mouth turns in distaste, but Hawke - dripping sweat under his robes and not little blood over them - has to say that he's hardly surprised.  
  
'Fenris,' he says. 'Is that your idea of keeping your word?'  
  
'What's one broken oath against Hadriana's thousands?' Fenris asks, wiping the gore off of his fingers. 'All that talk about my so-called sister. She could be anywhere, if she even exists. And even if she does, Denarius surely knows about her.' Fenris snorts, and turns away from the body.  
  
From where Hawke's standing, he can see that the elf is shaking. 'Would you like to talk about it?' he offers blandly.  
  
'No!' Fenris roars. 'No,' he says, more quietly. 'I need to go.'  
  
He does. Varric applauds the empty air. Hawke sighs.  
  
'You know how to pick them,' Aveline says.  
  
'I'm here with you two, aren't I?'  
  
'You're here because of _Fenris_ ,' she says meaningfully. Maker above, if _Aveline_ is trying to drop blunt-as-rock hints on his head, Hawke thinks, how dire must his situation be.  
  
'I only hope,' he says wryly, 'that when the time comes he rips _my_ heart out a little more gently.'  
  
-  
  
All told, Fenris knows on which side his bread is buttered, and so rejoins their party scant days later, trailing after Hawke in a cloud of moody recalcitrance.  
  
'Let me try to speak for you,' Hawke says one night when he visits Fenris at his mansion. 'Slavery is absolutely wrong, ergo there must be other absolutes. Ever practitioner of magic you've ever known has been corrupt and evil; by induction, all mages are evil.'  
  
Fenris gives Hawke a look of deep dissatisfaction. He's honour-bound by the aid that's been rendered to him to do Hawke justice; the only question is if his idea of justice will ever line up with Hawke's own ideas about magic and those who wield it. Hawke could never stand up to Fenris in tests of either strength of obstinacy, but he _can_ use diplomacy like a quick dagger.  
  
'I want to be your friend, Hawke,' Fenris mutters into his wine glass. 'But you've never made it easy for me.'  
  
'Just because it's never been easy in the past doesn't mean it won't be easy some day in the future,' Hawke says with equanimity. 'There's the problem of induction for you.'  
  
'I'm just an escaped slave,' Fenris snaps. 'What do I know about letters and books?'  
  
'Likely little, I'll give you that,' Hawke agrees, sitting there in a haunted house clad his noveau riche finery. He leans across the wide table to draw closer to Fenris. 'But what do you know about _all_ mages?'  
  
-  
  
  
They tumble into bed together not long after, because hatred and passion are bedfellows after all.  
  
-  
  
Fenris never stays at the Hawke estate. Hawke never tries to linger at Fenris' mansion.  
  
Nevertheless, they compromise.


End file.
